


Zed's Dead, Baby

by LastAstronaut



Series: Courier Six in the 'Wealth [2]
Category: Fallout 4, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Knife Play, Mentions of Joshua Graham/Courier Six, Minor Character: Female Sole Survivor, Object Insertion, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 05:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6181603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastAstronaut/pseuds/LastAstronaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courier Six left New Vegas to get over a heartbreak and discovers the Commonwealth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zed's Dead, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> First ever published fanfic, so many apologies if this is totally terrible! Feedback always appreciated. Please note there is one line of an implied previous sexual assault.

“Hey, hold up there!”

Courier Six stopped in her tracks, blood icing in her veins. She was nearing the gates to Diamond City, looking to rebuild her life after leaving the Mojave wasteland, and landed in the Commonwealth earlier that morning after a week of traveling with caravans. She paid people a lot of caps to keep quiet about her whereabouts, and now scolded herself for trusting them to honor that deal.

“I'm talking to you, you fucking ghoul!”

She frowned and raised an eyebrow, turning to the direction of the yelling man. A wave of relief eased her tense muscles when it was clear he wasn't speaking to her.

A security guard was holding a ghoul by the lapel of his bright red coat, lifting him until the ghoul’s tricon hat tipped backwards.

“You know the rules, freak. No ghouls in Diamond City.”

“Hey!” Courier Six barked, catching the attention of both men.

The reaction was instant, and it's what made her a leader in New Vegas. Her hate for bigots overcame her desire to escape everyone knowing her heroic whereabouts as Mr. New Vegas detailed them over the radio.

“Ma'am, this doesn't concern you. This is a matter of Diamond City business.” The guard raises his free hand, signaling her to stay back as she walked closer.

“Where no ghouls are allowed, I hear?” She lowers her aviator sunglasses with the tip of a gloved finger, the index finger of her other hand slowly running down the grip a revolver holstered on her belt.

The guard smirked, “That's right.”

“Well seeing we’re outside the city, doesn't seem fair to harass this man,” she wrapped two fingers around the revolver’s grip, “Let him go.”

“ _Man_? This _thing_ is no _man_ , sweetheart. Now go be pretty somewhere else.”

It's moments like this when Six knows she'll miss her notoriety. She was a couple of inches over five feet, but had the nerve of a mother deathclaw and it was known in New Vegas. When she talked, the Mojave listened. When she glared, the Mojave feared.

In a quick motion she removed the revolver from her belt and aimed it at the guard’s head. There was a beat of silence after his smirk dropped, and picked up on her lips instead.

“No love for your life, son?” Her voice darkened, “I said let him go.”

The ghoul’s black eyes bounced between the two of them, unable to read their expressions behind their sunglasses. The guard loosened his grip on his coat, and pushed him into a wall.

“Good boy,” Six cooed.

“Lady, you just got put on Diamond City’s shit list. I'll be telling my friends about you, don't you worry,” He spat on the ground and pointed at the ghoul, “and you stay the fuck outta my sight.”

She kept her gun pointed at the guard until he backed away and headed back towards the Diamond City front gate. “Great,” she said quietly to herself. “Been here not a few hours and already have a reputation.”

“Well shit, sister. Ain’t never been the damsel in distress,” the ghoul’s voice was smoky and low, instantly making her hold her breath. She turned to see him picking up a Jet inhaler off the ground in one hand, a shotgun modded with a combat knife in the other, “I'm not sure risking your entry to Diamond City was worth it for this mug, though.”

“What can I say,” she shrugged, “I hate bullies. You all right?”

He nodded, dipping his fingers into his pockets to fish out a pack of cigarettes, “Yeah I'm used to it around this part of town.” He placed a cigarette between his mangled lips, and offered one to Six.

She smiled and took it, “Thanks,” she muttered while the cigarette danced with the movement of the word. She patted down her duster pockets, frowning.

The ghoul inched forward with a small flame sparking from a gold plated lighter, and she couldn't help but look into his eyes from behind her sunglasses. Her gaze traveled down his face while smoke filled her nostrils from his lit cigarette.

She’d only met two other ghouls before this one standing in front of her. Jason Bright, one of those glowing ghouls with milky grey eyes who had never gone feral, and the famous King of Swing Dean Domino in the Sierra Madre, always in sunglasses and a tuxedo. She abruptly shuddered; remembering the Sierra Madre was a source of panic attacks that she’d been battling throughout the days and nights.

This ghoul, however, looked different. He reminded her of Zion.

***

_“Joshua.”_

_He spun to the door, quickly wrapping his burnt hand in bandages. She closed the distance between them, resting her hand on his to slow him. His icy blue eyes root into her deep browns, breathing hard as his brow furrowed in what she read as fear._

_Joshua Graham, The Burned Man, the first Legate of Caesar’s Legion, is shaking as a beautiful courier touches his scarred, burnt skin, examining it intently._

_She tenderly ran her thumb on his bare knuckles. He gasped; she stilled._

_She slowly let out a breath she didn’t realize held in her chest, “Am I hurting you?”_

_“No, I,” His voice was dry and barely above a whisper, “I haven’t,” he briefly paused. “No one has touched my skin since.”_

_“Is it time to replace your bandages?”_

_He nodded, knowing she knows the answer. He swallowed so hard she could see it travel down his throat through his thick bandages._

_“I want to help.”_

_He chuckled, exasperated. She had come to Zion a month ago, needing help after her caravan was attacked, but ended up being a crucial asset for the local tribes to reclaim their home. She sat through his sermons,_ _humouring him and challenging his religious beliefs. It only made his faith strengthen, and now, she wanted to help. Again._

_After a few beats of silence, he nods, and she began to slowly peel the bandages off. More patches of his arms and neck exposed, the fresh air hitting his burns and ruined skin like a splash of ice water. He hissed; she stopped. Her eyes, large doe eyes, stare into his like a lifeline._

_The back of his thighs hit his desk, and his fingers dig into her hips, bringing her closer until her nose touched his bandaged one._

_“Please, Zed,” he whispered._

_The quickly falling bandages unraveled his lips, lopsided and thinned by damage. She opened her mouth to ask permission, but his lips covered hers first._

_***_

“Mayor John Hancock,” he extended his hand towards Six.

She grasped it, ignoring the pull on her heart and push on her stomach when she felt familiar textures on his hand. “Mayor?” Her voice croaked, dry from the cigarette smoke.

“Of Goodneighbor. Well, I guess I'm a traveling Mayor right now.”

“I'm new to the Commomwealth. Can't say I know a damn thing about Goodneighbor besides being skeptical of the name.”

He chuckled, clouds of cigarette smoke floating out of two holes where his nose would have been, “Goodneighbor’s of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone’s welcome. Folks there are freaks, misfits, and troublemakers. And that’s why I love ‘em.”

A warmth pierced her chest as she thought of the Strip in New Vegas, and the rascal community with which she fell in love. Six went silent after, the harsh reality of abandoning them slapping her happy memories.

Hancock raised a brow, and she shook her head with a forced smile, “Sorry, I feel you. Just reminded me of some people I used to know.”

“Ah, I get ya,” He opens his mouth to continue, but pauses, and presses his lips together instead. His eyes met hers, “What’d you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” Six fought the urge to use the name that branded her a hero in the Mojave, and instead used a name she hasn’t heard in almost a year, “Name’s Zed.”

“Zed,” he echoes before taking another drag of his cigarette, “I like it.”

“And what’s Mr. Mayor doing traveling outside his constituency? It seems awfully dangerous for you to be alone out here.”

He shakes his head, flicking his finished cigarette to the ground, “Nah, not alone. I needed to take a walk, was getting too comfortable being a ruler and I ain’t the kind of ghoul who gets all tyrannical. So I decided to help out a friend of mine. She’s in Diamond City talking to Valentine.”

“Valentine?”

“Right, you’re new. Nick Valentine is a detective. One of the few, or hell, probably the _only_ synth that smoothskins won’t kill because of all the work he’s done.”

Six learned about synths while bodyguarding a caravan en route to the Commonwealth. The merchant told her about the different generations; some look like robots with glowing eyes, and others, so unnervingly human, they might be spies for an organization called The Institute.

“No offense, you being a smoothskin and all.” Hancock winked.

She chuckled, thinking of Caesar’s Legion, the all-human totalitarian regime in New Vegas that took women as slaves and tortured anyone they could. It scared her that Joshua was his former Legate before Caesar set his body aflame. She shivers when replaying Caesar on his knees in front of her, begging for his life until she lodged a machete into the side of his neck, blood spurting and vertebrae cracking. “What’s that saying? About man being the biggest monster?”

Hancock eyed her up and down, “Sounds like you get what I’m trying to say here.”

Six peeled off her sunglasses to wipe away a stray ash that flew onto the lense from her cigarette. Hancock looked into her eyes, the shade of a chocolate stout he favors at The Third Rail, while the setting sun behind him illuminized a golden dimension. She shook her jet black hair before slipping the sunglasses back on, her blunt bangs moving slightly out of the way, revealing a deep plum scar ripping through her forehead and one eyebrow, stopping above an eyelid.

She caught his eye staring at her forehead, and quickly smoothed her bangs back in place.

“It’s all right, sister. As you can see,” he waved his hand from the tip of his tricorn hat and down his torso, “I’ve got plenty of scars myself.” He winked with a sly smile.

Her cheeks reddened and with a quiet voice she responded, “Yeah, well, I’m not too proud of mine.”

He was about to ask how she got the scar, but the doors to Diamond City pushed open. A woman with a bright blue and yellow vault suit shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the horizon to where Six and Hancock are sitting. Hancock waved her over as Six crunched her cigarette under a black boot.

The woman got closer and Six noticed a Pip Boy attached to her wrist. She inhaled.

***

_“Six, you can’t.”_

_Veronica’s eyes shined and Six winced, “I’ll be back. I always come back.” Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat and closed her eyes to fight back tears._

_“We can help you here, you know? You have friends here! Friends are supposed to have your back, especially during shitty breakups.”_

_A whine at her feet made her eyes open, and she looked down to Rex, her half-robot half-German Shepherd companion. She sighed, “You’re gonna guilt trip me too?”_

_Veronica shook her head, “What are we supposed to do without you?”_

_Six stopped herself from laughing. Veronica had the most capable hands New Vegas could be left in. “Caesar’s Legion is demolished. The NCR know not to fuck with me. The Brotherhood’s useless, especially without you. You’ll be fine.”_

_Silence cut between them while Rex whined again at Six’s feet. She reached her arm out to scratch behind his ears, and her eyes snapped to the Pip Boy attached to her wrist._

_It had always been a part of her, an extension of who she became since coming back from the literal grave. It suddenly felt heavy, almost painful. She pulled at the straps and pulled her flat palm through, removing the device and reflexively stretching her wrist until the bone creaked._

_“You should take that with you, Six.”_

_“Nah. I don’t want anyone to be able to follow me or recognize me from this. Besides, it’s giving me an awful tan line.”_

***

Without needing much convincing, Six tagged along with Hancock and Nora, the Sole Survivor of the Commonwealth. She sighed a silent prayer of gratitude for finally not being the center of attention and being part of a group instead of leading it. She learned about Nora, and carefully avoided giving too much away from her past in return, only mentioning that she was a bartender near New Vegas. They sat around a campfire at the dilapidated Red Rocket truck stop, where Nora and Hancock setup running water and comfortable beds.

“Shit, Zed. You’re from Boulder City? You know I heard some weird tales about the Mojave from traders.”

Six gulped, and tried to ignore the shaking of her hands, “Oh yeah?”

“Is it true that some fucking _courier_ runs that place?”

She laughed, almost too soon, and cleared her throat, “Lots of assholes fight for power in New Vegas. Doesn’t really surprise me that anyone, even some courier, would try to do it.”

“Yeah but this ain’t some regular courier, sister. He apparently was gunned down, shot in the fucking head? And survived!” Hancock popped a Mentat into his mouth and shook his head in awe, “And calls himself like, Seven. Or something like that. Anyway. Guy must’a had balls of fucking steel.”

She grinded her teeth together. Of course her stories leaving the Mojave would change to be about a man’s heroic adventure. She gulped the last of her beer and tried to change the subject. “Nora, politics must’ve been way different 200 years ago. Who was in power during your time?”

She opened and chugged another beer while Nora spoke of her time, about how women had been allowed to vote but never gained enough of a platform to successfully be President. It made things worse as Six reached for another beer.

“Zed, you may want to slow down honey,” Nora raised a pencil-thin auburn eyebrow. It made Six hate the scar on her forehead that ran through her once perfectly manicured eyebrow.

She realized drinking too much too soon might reveal more about her past than she intended, and she nodded, placing the beer down. “Sorry, get kind of ahead of myself sometimes.”

“It happens when you’re drinking to forget,” Nora quietly responds, looking into the fire. “Who’s the one who broke your heart?”

Six shot her eyes up, “I, what do you mean?”

Nora laughed, “Oh, darling. I drank twice as fast when I lost my husband,” she rotated the wedding ring on her finger while returning her gaze into the fire, “I know that behavior of yours too well.”

***

  _A soft mewl escaped his throat when their lips parted; a wave of heat rushed through his muscles, he reignited into her touch. The kiss was too soft, too gentle, and he needed her to engulf him._

_“Joshua, if you don’t want this-”_

_He cut her off with a harder kiss and her hips immediately pressed against his, mouth opening to invite the warmth of his tongue against hers._

_Her hands moved to unbuckle his armor and grip the ends of his bandaged chest, his hands hungrily unzipped her black, skintight stealth suit until her breasts poured out. He cups them instantly, thumbs flicking her brown nipples._

_She broke the kiss to whimper, eyes widening. She bit her bottom lip as he experimented, pinching her nipples, “Please. I want you to make it hurt,” the desperation gritted her teeth._

_He froze, brow furrowed again, tongue peeking out from his burnt red lips to wet them. “I don’t understand-”_

_“I,” she looked away from him, reaching down to her breast to grab his hand and bring it up to her throat, closing his hand around it. “Joshua,” he squeezed and her eyes fluttered shut, “Please make it hurt.’_

***

The morning after, Nora had spent time modifying a pistol while Hancock and Six traded hits of Ultrajet that she bought from a caravan. “Holy shit,” Hancock’s eyes closed while his head tilt back, groaning in satisfaction as a cloud of vapour flowed out his mouth. Six had to look away from him. His skin was just like Joshua’s, and his voice so deep and gravelly that she bit her cheek to stop from openly biting her lip, “This is amazing, Zed.”

Time slowed as she stared at the Sole Survivor’s back, the faded “111” on her back appearing brighter than usual.

“You ever been in a vault?”

“No,” she lied.

“They’re a whole new level of weird, sister. Literally new level, being underground and all.” He laughed at his own joke.

Nora looked over her shoulder at them, “Had I known about vaults before the bombs fell, I would’ve done everything I could to shut them down. They’ve been nothing but inhumane experiments. People deserve better than that.”

Vault 11. The holotapes and computer logs of vault dwellers “electing” people to sacrifice them kept Six from sleeping peacefully for a couple of weeks. She didn’t respond, hoping Nora and Hancock won’t share more stories about what other fucked up things they found in the depth of vaults.

Nora shuddered, “Anyway. There’s a pub we gotta clear out,” she wiped the new scope on her pistol with a dish rag, “Shamrock Taphouse, I think it’s called. If y’all could sober up and double-check your supplies, we’ll head out in an hour.”

Six barely looked at her weapons when loading and tweaking her modifications. Hancock walked up behind her, his voice surprising her out of a trance, “You know how to handle those guns you have,” his voice lowered an octave with a raised brow, “for a bartender, and all.”

She blushed, cursing herself for being so attracted to him, “A bartender in a wasteland with raiders about,” she mirrored his voice drop, “and all.” He smirked, then walked away to count the stimpaks in his pack.

About 2 hours, 12 raiders, and 6 supermutants later, they reached the Shamrock Taphouse. Nora and Hancock traded impressed glances with Six’s steady grace in combat and her ability to snipe a headshot every time she peered through her scope.

They had cleared the pub in a matter of minutes with well-timed frags and began looting. Hancock whistled a tune from the radio, a song about a wanderin’ playboy. It made Six wonder how experienced he was, how many people moaned for him as he confidently swaggered into their bedrooms.

“Hands up in the air where I can see ‘em, boy!” Nora yelled somewhere behind Six, who was searching through a dufflebag.

When she turned she saw Hancock aiming his shotgun at a young man cowering behind the bar while Nora was at the end of the bar pointing her pistol.

“P-please, I’m unarmed!” He squeaked.

Six walked over to them, and met the man’s familiar amber eyes. “Shit,” she grumbled.

“Oh my god, Six? Is that you? Courier Six! Please, it’s me. It's Follows-Chalk!”

Hancock’s head snapped to Six’s direction, “You… you know this guy, uh, _Courier Six_?”

She sighed loudly, shutting her eyes, “Weapons down. Follows-Chalk, what are you doing here?”

“Oh Jesus, thank you Six. I ended up in the Commonwealth after leaving Zion. After you left, I wanted to leave my tribe and see the real world, you know? I actually don’t go by Follows-Chalk out here. My name is Fallon.”

“Yeah,” Hancock spat, “And her name is _Zed_. Apparently. Any of you need me I’ll be outside taking a chem break,” he muttered while pushing the doors to the pub open.

Six felt heat travel from her cheeks and down her neck as Hancock stormed out. She looked at Nora who shrugged, “I’ll go talk to him, sugar. You catch up with your friend here.”

“Six, what are you doing here?” Fallon relaxed his shoulders and leaned over the bar.

She shook her head, “I don’t really know. After Joshua,” she deeply inhaled, “After he didn’t come to New Vegas with me and stayed in Zion, I was a fucking wreck.”

Her old friend nodded sympathetically, “I think everyone in the tribe yelled at him for it,” he smiled.

She let out a genuine laugh, “Yeah, that sounds like Joshua. Too fucking stubborn for his own good, too dedicated to _God_ and,” she sighed loudly. “I couldn’t wait around for common sense to catch up with him, Fallon. He clearly didn’t want me enough.”

Silence filled the air and she shot her head up, like she realized something.

“Wait,” she pointed at him, “Why were you holed up with a bunch of raiders?”

“I’ve been trying to make money,” he responded sadly, “Some friends of mine were in trouble with the raiders, and they were gonna get themselves killed. So I offered to make weapons in exchange for caps that I’d use to get my friends out of trouble.”

Her smile was soft, “Always the little helper. You need any help getting back to your friends?”

“Nah. I think I’ll be able to make it all right, especially after you cleared out these assholes.”

She fished into her pack and put down a small sack of 500 bottlecaps on the bar, “Get out of here, Fallon. Keep your nose clean. No more making friends with raiders.”

Outside, she gave him a hug before they walked away from each other in opposite directions. Six headed towards Hancock and Nora, who were leaning against a broken down car across from the pub. Hancock was inspecting the combat knife he always had on him before looking up at Six.

“So,” his tone was friendlier than when he marched out. Six wondered if he sounded more apologetic; maybe Nora had calmed him down, maybe he inhaled a bunch of Jet. “That scar on your forehead you hide with your hair. You’re the Courier, aren’t you?” He shook his head in disbelief, “You’re a fucking legend, sister.”

Six chuckled, “Shouldn’t you call me brother considering all the stories you hear about the legendary Courier are about a man?”

Nora tutted, “Some things never change, even after 200 years.”

“What the hell you doing out here, kid?” Hancock looked at her in awe, “Ain’t you rich and powerful and all that? Why are you running errands with the riff-raff?” Nora punched his shoulder and he chuckled, “C’mon, you and I ain't exactly the high society type.”

Six turned her head away from them, looking towards the coast and shallow waters.

“I bet you it’s the person who broke her heart,” Nora responded cheekily with a sing-song tone in her voice. Hancock glared at her, unsure from where his jealousy came.

“Can we talk about it later?” Six asked, rubbing her temples with gloved fingers.

3 hours, 6 raiders, and 8 mole rats later, they returned to Red Rocket where they mostly kept silent. Nora had gone to bed, and Hancock and Six sat on a fallen tree trunk around the fire trading hits of Ultrajet again.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Six broke the silence and looked over at Hancock whose black eyes stared into hers. Her heart sunk at the contact; her thighs squirmed together to remain under control.

“I don’t respond well to lying,” he finally replied, his husky voice spreading goosebumps down her arms, “but I’m sorry for not waiting to hear you out first.”

She nodded, staring into the fire and inhaling the Ultrajet vapour and holding it briefly before exhaling through her nose.

“Did you really get shot in the head?”

“Yeah,” her voice was dry, “I was carrying something a man wanted. A platinum chip that held the power of New Vegas in my pack, and I didn’t even fucking know. I was hired with five other couriers who carried fakes to throw enemies off, but Benny, the man who knew I held the real chip, found me. He and three other gang members intercepted my route, beat me, tied me up, gagged me,” her voice shook, “took their turns with me,” she cleared her throat, “and Benny shot me in the head and left me in a grave.”

She felt the warmth of Hancock’s hand on her knee, and looked over to find his wide eyes boring into hers, “Jesus, I’m so sorry.”

She smiled, putting her hand over his, “A securitron named Victor found me still alive after all of that. I was in a coma for a few weeks, then I woke up in a doctor’s office. The rest of that story is probably all known by now.”

In a move that surprised her, Hancock moved his hand from her knee and took her hand in his. She squeezed; he exhaled with a smile.

“Nora was right, by the way. I met a man while offering my services as a caravan bodyguard, and it’s how I met that kid back in the Taphouse. The man, he, needed my help with a civil war breaking out between different tribes in the area. We spent time together, fell in love, or maybe it was just me,” she paused there, reflecting, “and by the time I had to come back to Vegas, he didn’t want to come with me.”

“He’s a fucking idiot,” his other rough hand held her chin, tipping her face upwards towards him. Her eyes slightly widened, her breath held while her face went hot. The hand on hers moved towards her bangs, “Can I see?”

She nodded after a hesitant pause as he brushed her bangs out of the way, the bullet hole scar embedded in her forehead peering through.

“That’s better. You’re beautiful.”

“I,” she stumbled over her words, “Tha-thank you. To be honest, I think I scared him off.”

He chuckled, “Well with sniping skills like yours, I could see why anyone should be terrified of you. Although others would find it extremely hot.”

She laughed, taking both his hands in hers, grazing her fingertips over his thick, mangled skin textures, “When it came to… sex, I,” she took a deep breath, “I like pain. He was deeply religious and I think, after being rough with me, he couldn’t look at me the same way. Even though it’s what I wanted, what I asked for.”

Hancock hummed, “Not any person can give into that kind of darkness, I guess.”

Silence waved through them.

He opened his mouth, and looked away, like he was having an internal debate. He finally sighed, “I’m gonna make things weird, but, I feel like there’s also a chance it won’t be weird,” he tips her chin towards him again, away from the fire, “Zed.”

“John,” the sound that left her throat wasn’t intentional, like a whimper caught.

“I’m not just any person. I feel like, for some fucking wild reason, you might want to explore that kind of darkness with me.”

“Yes,” she immediately breathed, slightly embarrassed by how eager she sounded.

He chuckled quietly, “It’d be one hell of a freakshow,” he moved in closer, “but if you want me to stop-”

“I’ll say tato,” Six smiled.

He chuckled louder, bringing her into his lap in a swift movement. He silenced her gasp with a deep kiss, exploring her with his tongue while she gripped his shoulders tight. She moaned into his kiss, grinding her hips in his lap and feeling his hardness stir between her legs.

Hancock broke the kiss and abruptly lifted her. She squealed in surprise and let out a soft giggle, her legs wrapping around his waist.

“We’ve gotta make sure Nora doesn’t wake up to hear you,” his breath was hot on her neck as he carried her a feet away from the fire and set her down on the trunk of a broken down car. He slightly pushed her shoulders back until she rested on her elbows and reflexively opened her legs. He hummed in approval, and one hand disappeared behind his back, “So, how rough do you like it?”

She groaned in response and bit her lip, lifting her hips slightly towards him.

When his hand reappeared, a glint caught her eye and she gasped. It was his combat knife, the one he’d play with idly and spin between his long, textured fingers. “You remember the word you came up with, in case you want to stop?” His foot rested on the bumper of the car to prop his opposite knee to land between her legs.

“Tato,” she whispered, keeping eye contact with him and breathing hard.

He pressed the edge of his knife into the side of her neck, just to apply some pressure, but she pushed into the touch. He groaned, a thumb swiping her pouting bottom lip, “You’re my kind of trouble,” he drawled.

He dragged the knife down her throat, leaving a pink line, as she threw her head back. His other hand unbuttoned her flannel shirt and her breasts spilled out. He mouthed at her neck, moving down to her one breast while the point of his blade barely circled around the other. He could hear her heart beating fast and loud.

“Try to relax, gorgeous,” he said looking up at her while licking his tongue darted out to her hard nipple, “I’ll take care of you.”

His sultry voice caused her hips to buck against his thigh, and he scoffed, continuing to move his open mouth lower down her torso. She bucked her hips again, and he gripped the top of her jeans tight while placing the handle of his knife between his teeth. His other hand unbuttoned and unzipped her, sliding her her jeans and underwear down her legs until they hit her boots.

“Hancock,” she moaned. He pressed the edge of the knife into her inner thigh, so close to her warm center. His other hand gripped her throat and squeezed, making her eyes slightly blur.

“You call me John or we’re gonna have problems,” he grinned, removing his hand from her throat and slapping her other inner thigh hard.

She gasped and whined loudly when the tail end of the slap stung, “John, please.”

The smell of her arousal hit him like a dose of Jet and his jaw tightened. He drew a finger down her slick inner lips, closing his eyes and breathing hard when she responded with a whimper. He pushed a finger into her tight opening, grunting as her walls throbbed around him.

Hancock lurched forward, kissing her vulva with his open mouth, causing her to cry out.

He stretched his arm towards her neck, flattening his knife between her breasts until the point hit the bottom of her throat, “You better stay still, baby girl.” He glared at her from her cunt, circling her clit with the tip of his tongue.

Her breath was ragged, her body shaking in his response to his skilled tongue tasting and pleasuring her. She gripped his outstretched arm, “Yes, yes fuck yes John, right here,” she chanted while the point of the knife threatened to pierce her skin when she swallowed hard.

Six’s hips began to shake, her thighs closing in on the sides of his head. He pulled the knife away from her and placed it beside them; his hands moved to her hips to pin them down hard against the trunk of the car while his tongue flicked and lapped quicker and harder against her clit.

She dug her fingernails into his hands and he growled in response, coaxing her to orgasm. She called out his name and bit her lip hard when he ripped his hand away from hers to slap the side of her thick thigh.

After she calmed down and attempted to squirm away from being too sensitive, he smirked and crawled up towards her to kiss her mouth hard, shoving his tongue into her mouth so she can taste herself. He moaned in approval, grinding his hard cock against her hip, “Say the words, baby,” he rasped into her ear.

She shuddered involuntarily, “Oh god John please fuck me,” she breathed out quickly, “Make me yours.”

He grinned, “Anything for you,” and roughly flipped her over to her front, one hand fisting in her hair and shoving her face against the car while his other hand freed and stroked his thick cock. He moved his hand away from himself to slap her ass, grinning at the way her skin rippled under the sharp _thwack_.

She yelped, pushing her ass up in the air towards him, of which he quickly took advantage by lining and thrusting the head of his cock into her sopping wet cunt, “Ah! Ahhhh,” she breathed, her tongue on the car’s metal.

Between thrusting ruthlessly into her and stretching her with his sizable textured dick, he’d spank her full cheeks with his open palm, relishing in her sobs and cries. He pulled her hair hard, lifting her face away from the car while his other hand grabbed his knife, “Open your mouth wide, sweetheart,” his dark voice groaned. The butt of the knife entered her open mouth, “Suck,” he ordered.

She closed her lips around the knife’s handle, sucking it until it was dripping wet with her spit. She closed her eyes tight and moaned loudly as he leaned forward to lick her earlobe and praise her talented mouth, his voice causing her to thrust her backside harder onto his cock. He pulled the knife’s handle out and pushed her forward towards the trunk of the car, his hands returning to her ass, spreading her cheeks to expose the ignored puckered hole.

“You want it rough, baby?” He groaned, and she responded with a high pitched squeal.

Hancock pushed the butt of the knife into her tight asshole after rubbing her rim in small circles with it. Her cries were growing louder, her cunt clenching around his cock in response. He fucked into her violently, balls slapping against her clit, the handle of the knife in her ass overwhelming her senses.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he growled, quickening the pace until his own orgasm took over, his jaw dropping open, letting out a deep growl from his chest.

They stood still, panting hard. He slowly pulled out of her, then kissed the red handprints where he spanked her while carefully removing the knife’s handle. She mewled, her thighs shaking in response.

“Hey, come here beautiful,” his voice was just above a whisper. He lifted her up in his arms after helping her off the car and pulling her jeans back up to her hips, and walked back to the fire. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out a content sigh.

They sat in a comfortable silence, heartbeats slowing, as the fire warmed their bodies. His arms tightened around her, pulling her back closer to his chest as he kissed the back of her neck.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

She hummed, nodding with her eyes closed and a soft smile on her lips.

“Listen,” he sighed, “When you’re rested and thinking straight, I want to know if you’d like to keep me around for more than what just happened.”

Six yawned, “You mean like a full time freakshow?”

Hancock felt a warmth across his chest and chuckled, “Yeah. Like a full time freakshow.”

She reached behind her and plucked his tricorn hat, placing it on her head and cuddling further into him, “I already know I want that,” she smiled and began to doze off in his arms.


End file.
